


All Book's From The Elder Scrolls Online: Thieves Guild

by TheOneRulingNerevarRing



Category: Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 17:17:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 76
Words: 16,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16454087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOneRulingNerevarRing/pseuds/TheOneRulingNerevarRing





	1. A Call for Common Hair

The nobles of our fair city have gone mad for ornate and over-styled hair. Have they nothing better to do than to ape the witless Prince Hubalajad, who is enamored of elaborate hairstyles?

The Highness of the High Hair has appeared in public with numerous elaborate (and, to the common man, utterly ridiculous) hairstyles. Whether they are wigs, or his own natural hair tortured into ludicrous designs, matters not. We have people starving in the alleys, or homeless due to the sinking of some sections of our city, while Prince of the Curious Coifs pays his hairdresser a sum of 100 gold pieces for each work of "art."

His most recent follicular follies include:

A representation of the White-Gold Tower, adorned with diamonds to represent lighted windows. It is said that he could not pass through the doorway of Lady Michefaba's main ballroom without ducking during a recent ball.

At a recent outing to the docks, to welcome some luminary from Sentinel, our Prince wore his hair styled to represent a Yokudan warship at full sail. The stunningly ridiculous effect was only enhanced with tern excrement, when one of the birds flew over his head, narrowly missing the mainsail.

For a recent outing, it was seen that Prince Hew's Hair was artfully arranged as a haj mota about to charge. Rumor has it that the scales of the "hair-beast" were individual rubies of uniform size. The beast's eyes were emeralds. One young maiden was so alarmed by the horror on His Hairness' head that she fainted. Her parents quickly blamed the heat, not the Hair-Mota, so as not to displease Prince Hew. However the young woman was overheard later saying that the emerald eyes kept staring at her until she was quite undone.

People of Abah's Landing, I implore you! Rise up against the Prince's Hair!

(NOTE: This is a reprinting of an actual handbill produced by one of the Abah's Landing original residents. It seems "Prince Hew" is not just a nickname we use for the luckless prince—he was truly called this by his contemporaries.)


	2. Abah's Landing Merchant Lords, V. 1

Prepared by Tamonir, Master of Secrets for the Queen of Taneth

Grandiose. Arrogant. Self-important. All these words and more can be used to describe the self-styled merchant lords of Abah's Landing. The four mercantile houses began to take shape about one-hundred-and-sixty years ago. They began as legitimate businesses, working to elevate Abah's Landing and create a center for trade and commerce between High Rock and Valenwood. But Hew's Bane has never been cooperative to those who tried to carve civilization out of the wilderness and, despite their best efforts, each mercantile house slowly became more corrupt as the pursuit of illegal profits quickly outdistanced more above-board enterprises.

The four houses emerged as the at-Addin Syndicate, House Vien, the Thazahrr Cartel, and Gurges and Associates. In time, the lords of these four houses controlled almost all of the commerce and gold flowing through the port city—both legitimate trade and illicit activities. Most of their profits came from smuggling, slavery, and other unlawful transactions. The merchant lords supplied Abah's Landing with goods and services while also establishing lucrative (if modest) trading partnerships in distant lands. As fortunes grew in Abah's Landing, it wasn't long before other groups began to take an interest in the area. This began a long and tumultuous relationship between the merchant lords and local criminals and crime bosses. Indeed, rumors of a "hidden" merchant house even began to circulate, and evidence abounds of a covert war being fought among the houses and the so-called "hidden house." While I have not been able to uncover any details concerning this conflict, the outcome can clearly be seen. Gurges and Associates was shattered and the other three houses were reduced to pale shadows of their former glory as a clandestine power emerged as the controlling interest in the port city.

For the last fifteen years or so, the merchant houses took a step back. Oh, they continued to engage in business and provide funds to support city services, including guards and infrastructure, but they no longer showed the swagger and bravado that exemplified their behavior for the decades prior to that time. Though no mayor or merchant house or secret guild took center stage, it appears evident to me that someone or something has influenced Abah's Landing from the deepest shadows. For this reason, I urge caution when dealing with Hew's Bane.

In my next report, I'll begin to provide background on each of the prominent merchant houses operating in the area.

(NOTE: These dispatches were "recovered" from a Taneth vessel and delivered to an interested party in Abah's Landing. I have published them so we may all know what our cousins across the bay think of us.—Anonymous)


	3. Abah's Landing Merchant Lords, V. 2

Prepared by Tamonir, Master of Secrets for the Queen of Taneth

The first and, according to the scions of the house, the greatest of the merchant houses of Abah's Landing is the at-Addin Syndicate. Founded by Afshuur at-Addin, a Redguard male known for both his physical prowess and his disarming charm, the Syndicate grew and flourished for almost one-hundred-and-twenty years. The enterprising Afshuur started out as a simple arms dealer, buying, selling, and trading Redguard swords, Orc axes, and Wood Elf bows. His first customers were the pirates and privateers that used Abah's Landing as a port of call on their trips to more prominent locations, but it wasn't long before he was making shipping deals with those very same vessels and their crews.

As time passed, the Syndicate added armor and shields to its inventory, seeking to provide a one-stop shopping destination for anyone in need of protection or those interested in sailing into battle. Pirate crews, mercenary bands, and even privateers in service to one flag or another were clamoring for armor and weapons with the Syndicate seal of quality and assurance. These connections led to another lucrative profit line—the Syndicate began serving as a broker for mercenary contracts.

The current leader of the Syndicate, Orahan at-Addin, rules the business with an iron fist. Ruthless and brilliant, the Redguard male treats every negotiation as a battle, every competition as a war. In fact, war has become at-Addin's primary avenue of trade, which allows him to keep the family enterprise profitable even in the wake of the unrevealed calamity that befell each of the merchant houses recently. As my queen is well aware, the machinations of the unknown party I have dubbed "the hidden house" continue to be evident while also continuing to elude me. I will have answers, I just don't know when I will have them.

Orahan at-Addin deals in arms and armaments, mercenary contracts, and smuggling supplies to all sides of any given conflict. He has no trouble selling weapons to the Covenant, armor to the Pact, and vital supplies to the Dominion —as long as each side has the gold to pay for his services. With the sudden absence of the power that had held the merchant houses in check and had even weakened them with a masterful yet secret attack, the Syndicate has begun to make moves to put it back into a position of power in Abah's Landing.

Regardless of other concerns, I recommend caution when dealing with Orahan and his family. But make no mistake, you will have to deal with them if you plan to make a move on Hew's Bane and Abah's Landing.

(NOTE: These dispatches were "recovered" from a Taneth vessel and delivered to an interested party in Abah's Landing. I have published them so we may all know what our cousins across the bay think of us.—Anonymous)


	4. Abah's Landing Merchant Lords, V. 3

Prepared by Tamonir, Master of Secrets for the Queen of Taneth

It was inevitable. A den of vice and corruption such as Abah's Landing requires a master to feed its needs. Or, in this case, a mistress. Enter Lady Felice Vien, who arrived in Abah's Landing from Wayrest with her dignity, a cask full of gold, and the intention to make a place for herself amid the debauchery and depravity of the port city. Very little information concerning the circumstances of her arrival still exists, but I was able to determine it had something to do with her late husband, a prominent noble in Wayrest, and her alleged role in his death.

Whatever the situation that sent her to Abah's Landing, Lady Felice wasted no time purchasing property and establishing the Winsome Welwa, a tavern and inn that soon became the talk of the port. What started as a humble eatery and fest hall began offering other entertainments, entertainments of the less than legal kind. Lady Felice saw that the people moving through Abah's Landing had particular vices, and she knew that there was gold to be made if she could satisfy their needs.

Today, House Vien handles the more intimate and discreet demands of Abah's Landing, including illicit substances, prostitution, and other vices. The Winsome Welwa, modeled after the infamous Chaste Harpy in High Rock, serves as a brothel and the base of operations for the current head of the house, Lady Ylanie Montaine. Despite the calamity that befell all of the merchant houses, she continues to make a modest profit administering to the illicit needs of pirates, merchant crews, and visiting nobles looking for a bit of adventure. All of the house's trade is focused on Abah's Landing, all under the Lady's discerning eye. She presents a proper, genteel countenance when she strolls the city streets and meets with clients and vacationing dignitaries, but she has a violent, even murderous, temper—though few who have the misfortune to see that side of her live to tell the tale.

Secrets are as much Lady Ylanie's stock and trade as are sex and drugs. She might prove to be a powerful ally in your ambitions, provided you never turn your back on her or partake in any of her tempting pleasures.

(NOTE: These dispatches were "recovered" from a Taneth vessel and delivered to an interested party in Abah's Landing. I have published them so we may all know what our cousins across the bay think of us.—Anonymous)


	5. Abah's Landing Merchant Lords, V. 4

Prepared by Tamonir, Master of Secrets for the Queen of Taneth

When the merchant houses of Abah's Landing were first established, one stood out from the rest. Significant not only for its unusual leader, but for the type of business she decided to trade in. The Khajiit who called herself Thazahrr-ra formed the Thazahrr Cartel to handle the despicable but necessary slave trading moving through the port city. The powerful Thazahrr-ra, one of only a few women in Khajiit history to take the male honorific "ra" as her own, formed a cartel that included Imperials, Bretons, Redguards, and a few Khajiit.

How could a Khajiit run a slavery cartel? Quite handily, it turns out. The legend of Thazahrr-ra grew as fast as the fortunes of the Cartel, describing a woman who would sell her own children if the profit was high enough. In addition to processing Argonian and Khajiit slaves on their way to distant lands, the Cartel expanded into the areas of smuggling and buying and selling information. Make no mistake: Being willing to sell your own people makes the Cartel extremely dangerous, as many of their competitors discovered over the years.

Today, Thazahrr Goldfang, the sixth Khajiit woman to take the name and title of merchant lord of the Thazahrr Cartel, oversees the house's business. She appears restless and unhappy with the state of the houses in Abah's Landing, and with the state of her business in general. Whatever occurred to hinder all of the merchant houses seems to have hit the Cartel harder than most. She longs to return her organization to the position of power and prestige it enjoyed in the days before the activities of the "hidden house" so that she can claim the same honorific as her esteemed ancestor.

Thazahrr Goldfang bubbles over with anger and ambition. She feels that Abah's Landing owes her a level of wealth and respect that, frankly, it has no intention of awarding her with. For this reason, she remains frustrated, anxious, and more than a little dangerous. My recommendation? Do not approach the Khajiit slave trader. Not even with a ten-foot pole.

(NOTE: These dispatches were "recovered" from a Taneth vessel and delivered to an interested party in Abah's Landing. I have published them so we may all know what our cousins across the bay think of us.—Anonymous)


	6. Abah's Landing Merchant Lords, V. 5

Prepared by Tamonir, Master of Secrets for the Queen of Taneth

Now I want to tell you about the sad and unfortunate fate of the fourth major merchant house of Abah's Landing, an organization I like to call, "the Fallen House." Gurges and Associates dates back to a powerful and important Imperial family that has all but disappeared from the Cyrodiil records. It came to prominence during the rise of the merchant lords of Hew's Bane, when Isobel Gurges - known as the Regal Pirate of the Abacean - retired from raiding and pillaging to form a more or less legitimate business.

Of course, legitimate business means something very different in a place like Abah's Landing. Isobel began by making loans with exorbitant interest rates, but it wasn't long before she took Gurges and Associates into gambling, fencing, laundering, and highjacking (where she had her crews steal cargo from merchant vessels so they could sell it back to those same merchants for an immediate profit).

When the merchant house crisis rocked Abah's Landing fifteen years prior, Gurges and Associates was nearly bankrupted. The tumult since, as well as events leading up to the Three Banners War, all but spelled the doom of the merchant house. Today, the Gurges family has only a handful of blood members and vassals, leaving its current patriarch, Martinus Gurges, a bitter and jealous man. He has plans, however. Plants to rebuild his company, reclaim his fortune and holdings, and once again make the Gurges name something to be honored and respected, if not feared, in Abah's Landing. He has a long way to go to make his dream come true.

(NOTE: These dispatches were "recovered" from a Taneth vessel and delivered to an interested party in Abah's Landing. I have published them so we may all know what our cousins across the bay think of us.


	7. Abah's Landing Merchant Lords, V. 6

Prepared by Tamonir, Master of Secrets for the Queen of Taneth

I wasn't sure I was ever going to send this to you. Everything it contains is little more than theory and conjecture. I have no proof, you see. No facts to hang before you. All that said, I decided that you had a right to know my thinking on this subject. Better safe than sorry, as the Dark Elves are wont to say.

I've suggested in my previous reports that there was another group or organization hindering and even actively attacking the merchant houses of Abah's Landing. I've referred to this as the "hidden house," but I have a better name: The Shadow Conglomerate. Like the vast chasm in front of you in the middle of the night, you can feel the Shadow Conglomerate's presence looming in the darkness, even though you can't see it.

What is the Shadow Conglomerate? I really don't know. Every avenue I approach that promises to reveal the truth of the organization instead sends me running in a dozen different directions, searching for the next clue that always seemed to be at least one step out of reach. Here's what I do know. I believe that the Shadow Conglomerate was formed about forty years ago, suddenly coming on the scene to challenge the merchant lords after a century of only having to deal with themselves. Within twenty-five years, the Shadow Conglomerate has risen to a place of prominence that allowed it to actually cause the merchant houses to step back and concede a portion of their power and influence to this new and secret organization.

I believe a battle of some sort took place in the deepest shadows. In the battle, the hidden house emerges victorious while the public-facing merchant houses were grievously wounded and forced off the pedestals they had raised themselves upon, the worse casualty was Gurges and Associates, which stopped being an active concern almost overnight and has since become known as "the Fallen House."

Is the Shadow Conglomerate the true power of Abah's Landing? I cannot say for certain, and that is what troubles me the most.

(NOTE: These dispatches were "recovered" from a Taneth vessel and delivered to an interested party in Abah's Landing. I have published them so we may all know what our cousins across the may thing of us.  
-Anonymous)


	8. An Excerpt from the Book of Seasons

Of all my reasons,  
Spring is my first and favorite seasons.  
To see the blue water shine in the sun,  
or the green trees inviting a climb—oh, what fun!

The air is cool and I am without thought,  
As I sleep on the rock which aren't yet too hot.  
And I wake to see endless fields of green grass,  
Not faded pastures or a leaf-covered mass.

This is why Spring is my first and favorite of seasons.  
Summer, Fall, and Winter? All have lesser reasons.


	9. Arrest Order - Velsa

By Order of Chief Inspector Rhanbiq

The Iron Wheel is hereby authorized to bring in a Dark Elf woman, going by the name of Velsa, surname unknown, for questioning related to the stolen dowry of Lady Magnifica Falorah. Suspect is believed to have strong ties to the organization of loosely affiliated rogues and criminals that goes by "Thieves Guild"

Note: Proceed with all caution, suspect is an expert in sabotage and chemical techniques designed to immobilize and cause pain. Assume hostility.


	10. Arrest Writ

The bearer of this writ serves as an authorized agent commissioned by the Hortator of House Dres to re-acquire live property that belongs to House Dres. In addition, said agent is fully authorized to distribute appropriate compensation to any guard command willing to allow said agent to go about the business of the re-acquisition of missing property without hindrance.

Enter names below, as property is located and identified:

1\. Tashmin


	11. Authenticity of the Giovessen Skull

Honorable Thane Fulstrom,

Though the events of 2920 are largely fictional in nature, the seed of truth has borne fruit in the form of the Giovessen Skull. It is indeed the gold-dipped and gem-encrusted cranium of Tavia, famously imprisoned in Castle Giovesse at the behest of Emperor Reman III. Whispers that the Giovessen Skull is a false relic appear to have been spread by a previous owner in Hammerfell, no doubt to discourage the attempted theft of such a valuable piece of history.

I hereby certify the Giovessen Skull as authentic. All rumors claiming the source skull was from a condemned Breton prisoner are just that - rumor.

Mercator Mannix, Imperial Historian


	12. Balith's Journal

Entry 42  
Lights again. I didn't think much of it last night, just the glimmer of stars on a calm sea and the bleariness of my eyes at the late hour. They're back again tonight and closer, I think. Well beyond my ability to glimpse at any rate. Just the odd flicker or flash.

Entry 43  
Storms rolling in. Sky over the sea's turning steely. Must have been what I'd seen the last few nights. Thunder and lightning. I should know better.

Entry 44  
I've never seen a storm just sort of creep. It's just sort of lingering out at sea, like it's hardly moved. Waiting. I don't like it. I'm going to board up the windows and check the levy tomorrow.

Entry 45  
There's a ship! I can just make out the shape in the haze. There's a glow like lamps, but the light's cool. How long has it been caught in that storm, I wonder? Hope they're alright. Not much I can do from here. I'll keep an eye out. The least I can do is run to the port for help if they're sunk in the storm.

Entry 46  
Tava's red feathers! The ship is the storm! A merchant galley was passing near the coast tonight as I was hauling in my nets, and it was like a rod to the lightning. That creeping storm whipped up like a hurricane and lunged at the fat little trader vessel like it was alive. The ship I thought the storm had swallowed was at its head, dragging the clouds like a net around the slower ship. It spat lightning at galley's sails and buffeted it on wind and waves.

I didn't dare move, watching helpless as the storm-ship overtook the galley. I could barely hear shouts and screams over the thunder. My desire to flee finally shook me free of my horror and I thanked my blessings that I'd gone overlooked.

Entry 47  
They're coming. Find Alina. Tell her I love her. Pray for me.


	13. By Order of Chief Inspector Rhanbiq

The Iron Wheel is hereby authorized to bring in a Dark Elf woman, going by the name Velsa, surname unknown, for questioning related to the stolen dowry of Lady Magnifica Falorah. Suspect is believed to have strong ties to the organization of loosely affiliated rogues and criminals that goes by "Thieves Guild"

Note: Proceed with all caution, suspect is an expert in sabotage and chemical techniques designed to immobilize and cause pain. Assume hostility.


	14. Captain Evani's Log

Entry 184  
The Abah's Landing Thieves Guild was smashed by mercenaries from Taneth. Did the merchant lords finally push back? Could be an opportunity to work with our Anvil connection.

Entry 188  
Small shipment delivered to contacts in Abah's Landing. The next time we ship in bulk.

Entry 191  
A new Commodore means we need money, fast. Only way to pay the tribute. We'll load our compartments to the gills next time we're in Anvil.

Entry 193  
Betrayed! Who is this "Cosh," and how could he know we're smuggling skooma? If I don't meet him at No Shira Citadel, he'll have the Iron Wheel raid my ship!

If I take us to deep waters, the Commodore will think we abandoned the tribute. But our contacts are spooked, and refuse to take the shipment off our hands.

This Cosh has me by the short whiskers. I'll have to meet with him at that blasted old fort. What else am I to do?


	15. Excerpt from al-Danobia Heist Journal

We must bypass Tu'wacca's Pillars to open HoonDing's Passage. After this, walking Malooc's Path will gain us the sacred ashes in Tall Papa's Ewer. These will reveal Shinji's Truth, and from there we arrive at the treasure vaults.

Bypassing Tu'wacca's Pillars is the first matter. Why else would there be a lock with the adornments of Yokudan generals plastered into the walls? If my knowledge is correct, and thus far it has been, then the lock makes reference to the stories based on the siblings Narimaya and Tunaska. I'll need to seek out the texts and see if anything will help me.

—

I've found an excerpt from an old text that may relate to the vaults. I'm jotting this down for future reference:

"And so each of the siblings stood upon the battlefield, facing each other in the calm of the night as the bodies of their armies lay at their feet. The flames flickered and burned all around them casting a soft golden hue on the battlefield. Tunaska stood to the north, surrounded by his generals, Akishu and Buhliz. To the south, Narimaya faced back, her two trusted advisors surrounding her; Nishka and Puntru. They both knew, this would be their final battle. This would be the fight that would open the gates of life or death for both of them."

Clearly this means that each of the generals stood in the center of their advisors. A possible clue for the vault? Now I just need to get into that room and see if I can decipher the order of the generals. And the mention of flames? Directions? All of this may be vital.

I should keep my eyes open for anything that would indicate an order when paired with this phrase of text. Something in the room must hint at this. An order or a number? Something. I feel good about this. That treasure will be ours soon!


	16. Excerpt from Cosh's Papers

The money and documents were delivered to Lady Ylanie Montaine as expected. Hubalajad Palace is now leased solely to my holdings. It shall serve as a good base of operations for what is to come.

—Cosh


	17. Faradan's Letter

Dearest Narahni,

My inquiries into the whereabouts of your son have finally yielded fruit, but I fear you will find that fruit to be bitter instead of sweet.

I'm sorry to say that your concerns regarding your son were confirmed. He has been linked with a group of skooma addicts who often beg for spare pieces of gold. My contact provided me with the map in this packet. He informs me that before he could approach your son to pass along your message, he was assaulted by two men who argued with him briefly before dragging him away. The young woman who was with your son, a disheveled Breton, disappeared into the marketplace during the commotion.

Following up with the local guards, my contact was able to discern that the two men were bounty hunters from Vvardenfell who had documentation linking Tashmin to a crime, but inquiries with officials in Vvardenfell have turned up no evidence of either a crime or bounty on your son. My fear: these men work for House Dres and plan to return your son to a life of slavery.

I'm sorry this letter doesn't bear better news.

—Faradan


	18. Fleg's Note

Captain,

Not to be speaking out of turn, but are you certain these maps are genuine? I'm looking at one right now that might have been current when Hew still called this place home. I know where it says I am, and I don't recognize a single landmark.

Gorigan heard some of the teams aren't even coming back. Maybe they're lost with these shoddy maps, maybe they found enough loot to think it was worth running, maybe they're dead. I don't want to die on some fool's errand, beginning your pardon, so I'm begging you, captain: let's get back to some honest piracy.

I've heard it from more than one Drowned Dog. "We'll keep digging for now, but if we don't hear from you soon we're throwing in with a new outfit."

—Fleg


	19. Help Complete Abah's Local History!

Citizens of Abah's Landing! It has been my privilege to volunteer for, and accept, the role of committee chair of the annual Hew's Bane Remembrance Days, a task I promise to carry out with vigor and enthusiasm! This year's display will honor the life and achievements of our founder (and my ancestor by way of my maternal grandfather), Prince Hubalajad himself!

In addition to a display of sundry items of historical interest dating from Prince Hew's reign, it is my hope that our panoply will include, for the first time, a full set of the justly-famous and highly-collectible series of books known as "Prince Hew's Fiascos." To this end, I will be lending the festival my own collection of these beloved tomes, which includes the following titles:

—Prince Hew and the Envoy's Exploding Pipe  
—Prince Hew and the Haj Mota Chariot  
—Prince Hew and the Iron Regatta  
—Prince Hew and the Three-Legged Race  
—Prince Hew and the Pet Toku Gava  
—Prince Hew and the Atronach Parade  
—Prince Hew and the Kindlepitch Fountain  
—Prince Hew and the Ogre Ballet

As the astute observer will immediately note, this collection is missing only one volume, the tragically rare "Prince Hew and the Spriggan Barbecue." If a copy of this scarce tome is to be found in Abah's Landing, it would be an act of civic charity for its owner to lend it to our panoply. (And if that owner were interested in selling said volume, I would offer substantial remuneration for it!)

Also, as my best-beloved spouse, Lady Wallavir, has other commitments, our committee is searching for a handsome woman of Redguard descent to act as presenter at the festival and play the role of Petty-Vizier Hafzifeh al-Yath, the putative author of "Prince Hew's Fiascos." Interested parties should apply in person up at the manor.

—Lord Huzahar Wallavir, Grandee


	20. Investigator Vale: A Deadly Toll

"Well, it definitely looks like murder to me," Investigator Vale said as she approached the old wooden bridge. "I've found that decapitation is hard to accomplish as a suicide."

The bridge spanned a nondescript waterway just outside the town. There was nothing special or unusual about the bridge or the minor river it spanned, but this is where the town's mayor and his entourage had brought the inspector just the same. Nothing unusual, that is, except for the severed head perched neatly atop the handrail that ran along the right side of the bridge.

"You barely looked at the poor creature," Jakard Herrick, the mayor's trusted confidant and the town's leading merchant said. "How in the name of Oblivion can you make such a bold assertion?"

"Because I'm that good," Vale said, continuing to examine the scene of the crime. "That is why the mayor hired me, after all." She pointed out some of her observations to the mayor and his entourage, including that the lack of blood and a body indicated that the murder didn't occur on the bridge.

"Does anyone recognize this unfortunate High Elf?" Vale asked as she stepped over and bent down to better examine the head. It was clearly an older Elf, a male, with perfectly groomed hair and a serene expression on his face. He'd look absolutely peaceful, Vale thought, if not for the ragged scraps of skin and bone protruding from the hole beneath his neck.

"That's Glanonir the gold lender," the cute young guard that had accompanied them to the bridge blurted out helpfully. "I'd know that smug face anywhere."

The mayor gave her a hard look for talking out of turn, but didn't press the matter. "So, investigator," he said, turning his attention back to Vale, "can you tell us what happened here?"

"Indubitably," Vale said with a smile, taking one more quick look around the area. "It's as clear as, well, the nose on your face, Mayor Moorcroft. Or perhaps I should say, the nose on his face." She indicated Herrick the merchant with a nod of her head.

Herrick coughed and stammered, "Just—just what are you implying, Inspector Vale?"

Vale gave Herrick her most dazzling smile. "I haven't made any implications. Yet." She plucked something from the victim's hair and then bent down and removed something that was stuck in the gore pooled on the handrail under the victim's neck. She looked at both items, sniffed them in each turn, and spun triumphantly toward the mayor.

"This," Inspector Vale said, holding up the first item, "is obviously Stinkhorn. Our dead gold lender had a number of stems in his hair, which I'm certain led the troll right to him."

She held up the second item. "This is a black tea leaf. I found it in the gold lender's drippings. Black tea. That's one of your primary commodities, isn't that right Herrick?"

The merchant, sweat beading on his forehead, swallowed with an audible gulp and began to step away from the bridge. The cute young guard deftly stepped into his path, her hand pointedly resting on the pommel of her sword.

"Explain yourself plainly, Inspector Vale," the mayor said, clearly dismayed.

"Ah, yes," Vale sighed. "I forget that not everyone sees the world as clearly as I do. Jakard Herrick owed a great debt to the gold lender. More than he could hope to repay, as the black tea crop was pitiful this season. He had noticed the troll that was lurking under this bridge and decided to use it to take care of his problem. He convinced Glanonir to meet him at the bridge, where he unceremoniously dumped a sack full of stinkhorn stems over his head and pushed him into the river. The troll emerged, ripped off the gold lender's head, and dragged the rest under the bridge. You'll find what remains of poor Glanonir, as well as a sleeping troll with a full stomach, right beneath our feet."

"That's ... that's nonsensical!" the merchant exclaimed.

"No, that's irrefutable," Vale said smugly. "Black tea leaves, the same as those still stuck to your sleeves, Herrick. From working in your storehouse, I'm certain."

"Shall I throw this miscreant in the dungeon, Mayor Moorcroft?" the cute young guard asked as she lavished the investigator with a smile.

"Of course you should, my dear," Vale said, taking the mayor by the arm. "And then you should summon some more guards, or you'll never get that troll out from under your bridge. Now, come along, Mayor Moorcroft. We really should discuss my fee ...."


	21. Iron Wheel Precept

Do not pity the lawbreaker.  
Their fate is the inevitability  
Of your solemn duty—  
A ring of iron around them.

What of the unrepentant lawbreaker?  
When shackles fail, take up the brand.  
All who meet them cannot deny—  
We burn our truth upon their canvas.

The lawbreaker can deny truth,  
But can never deny fate.  
We shall reveal the greatest truth—  
The Wheel turns ever onward.


	22. Iron Wheel Prisoner Transfer: Zeira

Prisoner to be Transferred  
Zeira of Abah's Landing  
aka Danizeira  
aka Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild

Vessel of Transfer  
The ship Anemone, to depart directly from No Shira Citadel to Taneth, there to be held until trial.

Custodial Duty  
Prisoner to be released into custody of Taneth Guard Captain or Iron Wheel Bailiff at Taneth harbor.

Crimes, Summarized  
—larceny  
—grand larceny  
—trespassing  
—conspiracy  
—evading Justice

Additional Notes  
Most recently impersonated a guest at the wedding of Magnifica Falorah. Specific details to be delivered upon my return to Taneth.

—Rhanbiq, CI-IW


	23. Journal of Ventilias Proximus

Once more, Zulgukh fails me! One of his loose-lipped idiots must have sold out our arrangement.

I need more bodies! Better they are worked to the bone, which is why Zulgukh's offer was so tempting.

But this "Cosh" fellow has blackmailed Zulgukh to come to No Shira Citadel—headquarters of the Iron Wheel! If Zulgukh doesn't play this new merchant lord's game, how long before the Iron Wheel is knocking at my door?

I won't die in this stinkhole. The Cult of the Black Worm will take me in, I'm certain of it—I just need a few more souls to prove my worth ....


	24. Kari's Hit List

Attention, new bloods! In the past, members of the Thieves Guild proved who the best of the bunch was by stealing the rarest, most valuable treasures they could from some of the most powerful people in Tamriel. We REALLY don't need to attract that kind of attention right now. Seriously.

However, the Guildmaster thinks it's important for you lot to hone your skills and distinguish yourselves, so I have cataloged an inventory of one of a kind items that no one will send an army to retrieve. Put them up in the Den as proof of the deed.

This is for bragging rights, not gold, so don't come to me expecting a king's bounty for any of this stuff.

Abah's Landing: The great great great—you get the idea—grandnephew of some banker back when Prince Hew was alive still has the poor sap's repossessed funeral urn sitting out as a flower pot.

Greenshade: The Mages Guild is doing restoration work on an old set of weird living books for one of the Treethanes. I guess you're supposed to water them.

Auridon: Prince Naemon had a commemorative decanter commissioned for his coronation. Rumors say some collector has it on display at the inn.

Malabal Tor: There's an old Wood Elf tale about a bard so good he won a contest with a cursed harp. Supposedly the Mages Guild is keeping it from bursting any eardrums in the wrong hands.

Reaper's March: The Mages Guild is caring for the ancient possessions of some Khajiit warrior of old at their holdings in Rawl'kha. You have the misfortune of finding his spittoon.

Grahtwood: There's a mannequin that was supposed to stand in for one of the members of the Camoran dynasty when he died in battle. I guess they found him, because it's collecting dust in the embassy.

Alik'r Desert: A wealthy innkeeper out in the desert has some antique bowl he claims is a family heirloom tracing his line back to some Ra Gada hero. Looks can be deceiving, but I have my doubts.

Stormhaven: The first king of Wayrest might have been a good king, but he was a terrible poet. There's an unpublished book of his work archived in the Mages Guild. We won't make you recite it.

Bangkorai: One of the more organized Yokudan conquerors had to use massive paperweights to wrangle all of his inventories. Fair warning, I might keep these.

Glenumbra: One of the carpets decorating Daggerfall castle is supposedly magical. I don't know why they'd just have something like that just sitting out, but use it to your advantage.

Rivenspire: The Fighters Guild is supposed to have a bunch of letters the princess of Shornhelm wrote to King Emeric before he dumped her for the princess of Sentinel. Sounds juicy.

Eastmarch: The locals out in Eastmarch say that King Jorunn's commissioned some ancient piece of Dwarven technology he smashed into a centerpiece for his next banquet. The thing's undergoing repair at their local Mages Guild.

Stonefalls: One of the inns had an old coat-of-arms from the Ebonheart Pact's formation sitting in the basement. Seems they aren't sentimental about it.

Shadowfen: There was some strange tribe that lived out in Black Marsh alongside the Argonians. Unsurprisingly, they're all dead, but the Argonians still keep some artifacts around. There's some religious shovel their people prayed to, I guess.

Deshaan: Most of the time Dwarven artifacts are highly prized, but I have a lead on some banner that got taken down and thrown in storage around Mournhold. Probably more to the story.

The Rift: Ysgramor is basically worshiped by the Fighters Guild. They'd give their sword arms to drink from the same vessel he did, but there's one of his old wine skins that's been sitting untouched.


	25. King Farangel's Ode to Wayrest

This is my first attempt at poetry; history will remember these words.

"Swell the impetuous tides that crash upon your darkened shore. "The lights of your towers rival the stars gleaming in the sky, "Their light doubled in the shadowed bay."

No, that's not it. It's too high-minded. I want this to be something everyone can relate to. Perhaps a song?

"If I had a daughter, I tell you what she'd say, "I want a man of Wayrest, to stay with me all day! "And if I had a son, I tell you he'd be right, "To want a girl of Wayrest, to stay with him all night!"

Uh-oh. This is heading in the wrong direction, fast. What do you think, scribe? Do you have any ideas?

"W is for the city Where I want to be. "A is for the Apple of King Farangel's eye. "Y is for whY would you go to Daggerfall, that stinking, reeking slum."

All right. We're getting nowhere. I think we need to turn this over to the bards.

Why are you still writing? Scribe, I know I told you to write everything down but … look, I'm ordering you on pain of death, stop—


	26. Lady Balina's Wedding Invitation

Lady Balina,

You and (Guest) are cordially invited to attend the union between Lord Cosh of Abah's Landing and Magnifica Falorah al-Danobia, Jewel of Taneth, at Hubalajad Palace. Appropriate attire is required.

Entertainment and food will be provided well into the evening until vows are exchanged within the palace.

Each attendee is expected to bring a gift.

—Muazel, personal assistant to Lord Cosh


	27. Lady in the Cistern: Andarri's Theory

There's a statue of some lady in the middle of our Thieves Den. She was here when we got here, and nobody seems to know who she is or why she's there. Can anybody tell me who this is supposed to be?

I think she's the Lucky Old Lady. I saw her statue in Bravil, once—I can't put my claw on it, but it feels as though she's the same person. And it makes sense why the matron of fortune would be here, blessing the only consistent source of clean water in Hew's Bane.

What do the rest of you think? Who is the lady in the cistern?

—Andarri


	28. Lady in the Cistern: Quen's Theory

We read translations of old Yokudan texts at my academy. I think the lady in the cistern is a depiction of Hazadyya Sea-Queen. She was well-known and respected among her people's descendants, and Prince Hew may have read her Lost Islands of Old Yokuda. Also, the creature wrapped around her is a sea serpent. This means the "queen of the sea" watches over the water supply for the only free port of Hew's Bane, as though it were a colony of Old Yokuda itself. Pompous symbolism - wortly of Prince Hew himself.

\- Quen


	29. Lady in the Cistern: Silver-Claw's Theory

I do not know who the lady in the cistern used to be. But truly, it no longer matters who the statue was.

You see, I believe the statue now represents Zeira. Without her guidance, this strange little family of which I now proudly call myself a part would no longer exist. So for me, the Lady in the Cistern is your guildmaster.

-Silver-Claw


	30. Lady in the Cistern: Thrag's Theory

The lady in the cistern is clearly Nocturnal. Take a look at the statue—the face somewhat obscured, cloaked in an all-concealing robe, and hidden in a cistern that was once bricked off behind another cistern. Who hides water? Nocturnal cultists, that's who.

Not that I was ever in a Nocturnal cult.

—Thrag


	31. Lady in the Cistern: Velsa's Theory

The statue is the Night Mother. Her right hand is open because She Knows. There's a snake wrapped around her. The snake represents Sithis.

It's clear as the night sky that you're all idiots.

—Velsa


	32. Lady in the Cistern: Walks-Softly's Theory

Those who live in the alleys of Abah's Landing are often without food, but it is rare to hear of any who suffer from lack of water. Have you never asked yourself why the lowliest are graced with such plenty?

The statue must be Zeggi, the Madonna of Tears. Though her father Zeht forsakes this land, preventing most food from growing here, the water goddess takes pity on the lost souls who call Abah's Landing their home. The statue recognizes the sacrifices she makes to sustain us, hidden from the gaze of her disapproving father.

―Walks-Softly


	33. Lady in the Cistern: Zeira's Theory

Silver-Claw―I'm flattered, but the Thieves Guild is more than one person. The Vestige is proof enough of that.

And the rest of you are wrong―it's Leki, administering her Ephemeral Feint―as sculptors used to depict it, in Hubalajad's time. The statue's left hand is curled, as though to hold a sword. Perhaps it did, long ago, though if it were not stolen it must have long since rusted away.

Note the similarities to the massive statue of Hubalajad just south of the Abah's Landing's harbor. He commissioned a colossal, idealized sculpture of himself, embraced by a sep adder. Enormous, ridiculous, and (for some reason) shirtless, as though nothing can harm him.

Yet the sculptor who hid Leki away in this cistern refuted him. The robes conceal intention, allowing her to strike with little warning. The Saint of the Spirit Sword accomplished so much more than Prince Hew, yet doesn't need to be taller than a ship's mast to prove it. Even more, she does not need to declare herself to the entire town. She is content to do what she must from the shadows.

And the sep adder sash is delightful. A real thumb in the eye to Prince Hew.

―Zeira


	34. Letter to Abbot Kulan-dro

Esteemed Abbot Kulan-dro,

Valnargo-dro is writing to you to confirm that the Torval Curiata has received your petition for reassignment. This one must admit some surprise. The Curiata considered the Temple of Seven Riddles a perfect fit for a cat of your skills and sensibilities. Valnargo knows that the temple's unique history presents certain challenges, but you should not consider this a demotion. No! On the contrary! The Curiata has always believed that the seals should be watched by the strongest leaders in our community. Does service in the Temple of Seven Riddles carry a stigma? Regrettably, yes. But Jone and Jode place their heaviest demands on the strongest backs, yes? Your reputation for strict discipline and rigorous study made you the perfect candidate.

We will think of your petition, but as one of your oldest friends Valnargo suggests that you seek the good in your new role as Abbot. The Moons always guide our paws to their greater glory. All things happen for a reason. You will pray on that, yes?

Moons protect you,

Bishop Valnargo-dro


	35. Letter to Lady Sulima

My darling,

Our time together has restored a broken spirit and a wounded heart. Your kindness reminds me what it is to love again. I know my travels can cause strain between us, but it is all in our best interest.

One day, very soon, I shall complete my travels and my work. At that point, with our future secure, I can finally introduce you to my daughter. I look forward to that day, my love. We will have so much to share.

—S


	36. Letter to Paathi

Paathi,

I am worried. Shola'mai does not wish to spread rumors, but Abbot Kulan-dro's behavior grows stranger by the day. He was late to midday meditation again, and muttered through the Tojay chant. This one knows it is forbidden to open his eyes during the mantras, but I could not help but take a peek. Kulan-dro's snout was twisted into a sneer, and his tail swept back and forth like a prayer bell. This alone would not raise Shola'mai's hackles—but his claws were tapping in time. They were clicking against the stone, again and again. It made this one's head swim!

We must send word to the Mane. I sense something dark in that rhythm. If the Abbot has bent, all of us are at risk.

Stay out of sight for the next few days and if you hear the rhythm, flee the temple.

Moons protect you,

Shola'mai


	37. Letter to Percy Velmont

Percy,

Come now, my dear younger brother! Get your head out of the latest "Pirate Empress Thusa ap Lagud" novel long enough to pay attention to my words. I'm going on a trip. Yes, it is quite sudden and unexpected, and no, I didn't have time to tell you in person. A number of business matters require my attention, along with a few social engagements that I really must attend. I left a copy of my itinerary around, in case you care.

While I'm away, don't get any ideas. Father left me in charge of business and family holdings. Just try not to let anything go horribly wrong before I return.

See you in a few weeks, dear brother. If you do well in my absence, perhaps I'll pick up the next "Pirate Empress" adventure for you while I'm in Anvil.

Your sister, Anais


	38. Letter to Velsa

It has taken a long time to find you.

Know that someone thinks of you.

And hopes you are well


	39. Look at this Guard Dispatch!

(Five rare Akaviri coins to whoever can guess which city guards wrote this dispatch. —Andarri)

To All City Guards: Be on the lookout for pickpockets. According to our sources, an organized band of ruffians have decided to terrorize certain of our citizens by stealing their "tools of the trade," right out of their pockets and purses! These thieves are going after crafting tools, musical instruments, and even fishing gear!

Watch the inns and the docks most carefully—these areas, while often highly populated, tend to be thin on guard presence. A thief could steal a bard's lute and get out of an inn without ever being spotted, and most fishermen like to find secluded spots to ply their trade. Fortunately, most of our crafting areas tend to be heavily patrolled, but look out for those men and women who like to take frequent "breaks," wandering down alleyways.

(Southpoint. Too easy. —Thrag)

(Wrong. And you're supposed to tell me, not write it down. —Andarri)

(You were "asleep." And I meant Northpoint. —Thrag)

(Still wrong. Thrag is disqualified. —Andarri)

(Everyone is disqualified. She doesn't have five rare Akaviri coins. —Thrag)

(Thrag is triple disqualified. And "Rare Akaviri Coin" is the name of a drink I concocted. —Andarri)


	40. Lord Wallavir's Wedding Invitation

Lord Wallavir,

You and (Guest) are cordially invited to attend the union between Lord Cosh of Abah's Landing and Magnifica Falorah al-Danobia, Jewel of Taneth, at Hubalajad Palace. Appropriate attire is required.

Entertainment and food will be provided well into the evening until vows are exchanged within the palace.

Each attendee is expected to bring a gift.

—Muazel, personal assistant to Lord Cosh


	41. Mantra of Expulsion

Blessed moons, name our hearts with your dancing.

Honored Jode, hasten our paws to prayer.

Honored Jone, strengthen our claws for your greater clory [sic].

Ghost moon, be gone! In the Moon's bright light, vanish!

The Lunar Lattice sweetens all life. It is right to praise the moons. Praise them with all your heart.


	42. Missing: Gordonkha the Shark and Lazy Murshez

Looking for Gordonkha the Shark and Lazy Murshez. Heard they were on some sort of heist—someone mentioned a sewer.

Gordonkha's got dark, gray skin and a thin strip of black, spiked hair running from his forehead all the way down his back. Murshez has pitch-black skin with a series of reddish scars all along his left arm and side. His right eye droops and almost looks closed.

Please post any news or inform Walks-Softly directly.


	43. Missing: Khiruna

Name  
Khiruna, also known as "the Fair," and has used the names Kuru and Rina in the past

Description  
Average height, gold fur streaked with white, black flecks around her nose and the tip of her tail

Specialty  
Information collection, pick-pocketing, short cons

Last Seen  
Serpent and the Senche, the night the Iron Wheel struck

If anyone finds her or has word of her, please leave a note here or contact Walks-Softly directly.


	44. Mudcrab Order Request

Some consider mudcrab to be the food of a commoner--the staple of a peasant. This is truly uninspired on the part of the masses--such a versatile food is as essential to Tamriel as massive wheels of cheese.

As such, I require a barrel of mudcrab meat to be delivered daily so I may develop a compilation of the finest recipes of Abah's Landing for publication.

Not only will you be promoting the culture of Cybiades with your contribution, but I will also provide the typical payment for your services.

-Master Chef He-Cuts-the-Flesh, Cybiades


	45. Murshez Is Dead

Murshez got caught by the Iron Wheel when we returned to Abah's Landing. He died quick, and I owe him. Anybody know if he had relatives? I'd like to pay him back for getting me out of there.

Spent the last few ... weeks? Months? Don't know how long it's been ... holed up in an old ruin with nothing but scorpions to eat.

I'll check in now and again, but my mothers didn't raise me stupid. I'm out until this Iron Wheel situation is handled.

-G the S


	46. No Fuss, No Rush

or, "Hard-Earned Tips From Old Sculler"

Some of these nobles ... all that money and they still want more. They'll pay, too. But you have to be smart.

You get sent all over Tamriel to grab goods and "clean" them, take a tip from Old Sculler - get it done quick and without getting caught! Paying off your bounty takes away from the profits.

Here's what Old Sculler does:

1\. Find the right targets. Somebody wants "ritual objects," you'll likely find them near cathedrals or on priests. Sounds obvious, right? Well, that means big cities ... usually with lots of guards. Pick your targets carefully. Make sure the temple isn't big enough to have its own guards, or if it does that they aren't staring everywhere at once.

2\. If you get a bounty on you, don't be in such a rush. Find something outside the city to do before you try finishing the contract. Old Sculler once made some extra gold helping a village with their bandit problem. Nobody there cared about a bounty. By the time that job was done, the guards had lost interest and Old Sculler turned in her "clean" goods, sweet as you please.

Be smart or be dead.


	47. No Shira, No Good!

2 Last Seed, 2E 398  
The boss found a great new hideout! It's a bit far from the Abah's Landing, but it's all underground. Dry in the rainy season, too. Whoever built it knew how to seal the walls.

And they knew how to build for size, too. We could triple the size of our crew and still have plenty of space for stores, loot, and even slaves!

5 Last Seed, 2E 398  
Found out the name of the place: "No Shira." Not sure what it means, but it could be "watch your step." Effie was coming down to her bunk and some nasty scythe swung out of the wall and cut her in half! The boss has us searching the place for other traps, but we can't find any. Maybe that was the only one.

9 Last Seed, 2E 398  
Guess "No Shira" means "not so lucky." The Knuckler got a little bit drunk and stumbled down the stairs. We found him burned to a crisp at the bottom. Don't even know where the fire came from.

13 Last Seed, 2E 398  
That's it, we're packing up. The boss lost everything below the knee to some nasty snake trap. He'll need a new nickname—though I guess "Lightfoot" could have a double meaning.


	48. Orders from Lady Anais

To Brekusin, Steward of Velmont,

As you have no doubt heard by now, I had to leave quickly and unexpectedly to handle business and social engagements of a delicate nature. I had time to grab a few things, but please send the following items to the docks immediately. I have secured the help of an agent to make sure these items follow after me on the next available sailing vessel.

1\. The three trunks of clothing designated for short business trips.  
2\. The seven trunks of gowns designated for posh social engagements.  
3\. Three coffers of gold for incidental spending and shopping sprees.  
4\. My beloved pet and servant, Pimsy.

Thank you for dealing with this matter.

Lady Anais Velmont


	49. Page 71: Erendette's Account

Second Seed  
Another happy customer!  
Total Owed: 15 gold

Mid-year  
Credit: 5 gold, Erendette restacked and carried items as requested.  
Debit: 22 gold. E. is a thirsty lass!  
Debit: 9 gold. E. helped herself to my stock!

Total Owed: 41 gold

Sun's Height  
Credit: 7 gold. Determine if E. is stealing again.  
Debit: 31 gold. E certainly loves my secret product!

Total Owed: 65 gold

Note: Credit discontinued until debt is paid. No more product for E.

Note: Payment must be in gold. E. costs me more in lost stock when I let her work off her debt.


	50. Prince Hew and the Haj Mota Chariot

"Hafzifeh! I mean, Your Semi-Excellency!" It was Jengesh the page boy, in a sweat from having run up the stairs. "The Prince wants you right away, in the stables! Hurry!"

"Now what?" I said, as I shoved Ralliballah's Eleven Ritual Forms under my desk blotter—the Prince had forbidden magic in the palace ever since his attempt to learn the Water Breathing spell had left him temporarily unable to breathe anything but water. (I'd told him he was inverting the fifth and sixth syllables, but he'd ignore me.) "Are the skeevers into the oats again?"

"Nope!" Jengesh smiled slyly. "You'll have to see this for yourself."

Prince Hew was pacing impatiently back and forth before the door to the stables, taking care to keep his curly-toed golden slippers out of the dung. "Ah! There you are, Hafzi! I have something to show you—and this time I know you'll be impressed!" He waved one silk-clad arm toward his ever-present bodyguard, and Big Dhorlun slid the stable door open on its rollers.

Inside was the ugliest thing I'd ever seen. It looked like a Ra Gada war chariot, but it was oversized, with four wheels instead of two, and with a big gold-fringed umbrella on a gilded frame over the rider's box. The box itself was garishly painted with glowing rainbows, the Prince's chosen symbol ("Because I'm 'Prince Hue'—get it?"), and silver spatter-boards were mounted over the wheels to keep mud from besmirching the driver. The whole affair looked as heavy as an oxcart in a quarry.

"Isn't it glorious?" the Prince asked. "It's glorious, isn't it?" he repeated, pointedly. "Glorious."

"G-glorious. Yes, indeed. Exactly." I said. "It's also ... rather large. But it looks to me like it would take about eight horses to draw it, and right now we have only six."

"Horses? Pfah! Horses are for the ordinary! My new princely chariot will be drawn by ... a haj mota!"

"A devil-tortoise? But no one's ever tamed one—it can't be done. And where would Your Highness get it, anyway?"

"I have one already!" said Prince Hew, proudly twirling his handlebar moustache. "I bought it from a Bosmeri merchant, who tamed it with soporific bug-smoke. Come see!" And he led the way further into the stable.

That's when the screaming began. Normally I wouldn't use a hoary cliche like "blood-curdling shrieks," but really, my heart froze at the sound, terrible wails from both humans and horses. Morad the stable-hand came running from the pens, wide-eyed, followed by a Wood Elf I didn't recognize. I got in his way, and when he tried to push past me I grabbed him by one of his cosmetic antlers. "Ow! Stop it, lady! Run for it!"

"Tell me what happened, and I'll let you go," I snarled, twisting the antler for emphasis.

"It's the haj mota! It must've gotten used to the sleep-smoke, because it woke up—mad!" He looked over his shoulder, trembling. "It's eating the horses! And we're next—let me go!"

I let him go. And then, out of the depths of the barn, came the thundering devil-tortoise, its jaws still dropping gobbets of horse. It was charging straight toward Prince Hew, who stood stock-still, watching it. I realized he was paralyzed with fear.

I barely made it, but I tackled the Prince and knocked him out of the way just before the haj mota would have trampled him. It passed us, then stopped short and turned—it was shockingly nimble—and whacked Dhorlun with its heavy tail, sending him flying in one direction, and his two-handed sword in another. Then it focused on us, murder in its red, piggy eyes.

I was sprawled atop Prince Hew, who was pawing at me with his pudgy hands and bleating, "Save me, Hafzi! Save me!" As the thing stepped closer and opened its great beak I tried to think of a spell, any spell, but with the Prince wheezing at me my mind was a blank.

The Prince ... wheezing .... Suddenly a spell formed in my mind, I blurted it out,and slapped the haj mota on its nose. Magicka poured from me and into the beast, which blinked, snorted, and began to shake its head left and right. It opened its jaws wide and burst out in great, wracking gasps, and then flung its legs out and flopped down, lungs heaving. In less than a minute it was dead, suffocated.

Because it couldn't find any water to breathe.

I helped the Prince up, dusting off his silken robes, except for the part where he'd sat in horse dung, which I pretended not to notice. "What ... what happened to it, Hafzi?" he said. His eyes narrowed. "You didn't use any magic on it, did you?"

"It ... must have been a delayed reaction to the bug-smoke. A breathing problem!" I nodded emphatically. "Yes, it must have been the smoke. Remember the time I wore that Rihad musk and you couldn't stop sneezing? Like that!"

"Ah. Yes. Well, that was lucky, wasn't it? Dhorlun, run after that merchant and get my money back! I'm going to have to buy another six horses." He looked fondly at the hideous chariot. "Maybe eight!"


	51. Prince Hew and the Three-Legged Race

"Hafzi!" Prince Hew called as he burst into my office. "Is everything ready for the Festival of Blades?"

I stood, trying to cover Corvus Direnni's "Principles of Conjuration" with a parchment.

The Prince's eyes flashed. "Reading Direnni again, eh? You know how I feel about magic in the palace, Petty-Vizier!"

"It ... it isn't mine, Your Highness! I confiscated it from Jengesh the page boy." I smiled unconvincingly.

"Hmph. And why aren't you wearing your official petty-vizier turban?"

I glanced at the awful magenta-and-green headwear on the corner of my desk and tried not to make a face. "It's too warm to wear a hat, Your Magnificence."

"Nonsense, it's the middle of First Seed! But I want to know if preparations for the festival are on schedule. You know how much my people love a good party!"

I shook my head. "They're Redguards, Your Highness. They don't really go to parties much. Or at all."

"That's about to change! Now, are we prepared for pin-the-tail-on-the-camel?"

"Yes, Your Highness. Or we will be, once Morad gets back from having the splint put on his leg."

"Bobbing for gorapples?"

"The tubs, fruit baskets, and towels are all lined up in the west courtyard."

"The Town-Guards' three-legged race?"

I cleared my throat. "Well, there we have a problem, Your Sublimity, because none of the Guards have signed up for the event. They're ... reluctant, because they remember how you punished Corporal Zaqudh after last year's race."

"He was cheating! I had to punish him! And after all, he still has most of his toes."

"Even so, I don't believe they'll do it."

"Hmph." The Prince tugged on his moustache irritably. "What if you can assure them that I know they won't cheat by untying their legs, because they won't be able to?"

This was bad. It meant the Prince had an idea, and it was always bad when the Prince had an idea. "What do you mean, 'won't be able to'?" I asked warily.

"Ha ha! Dhorlun, come here," he called. His bodyguard ducked his head under the lintel and came in from the hallway. "Hafzi, stand in front of that Yokudan urn," Prince Hew said. "Dhorlun, stand next to the Petty-Vizier."

I shrugged, and we took our positions, Big Dhorlun at my side, topping my height by a head and a half. Prince Hew raised his hands in an arcane gesture and I realized, to my horror, that he was about to try to cast a spell—but before I could protest, it was done. The spell was invoked, the magicka surged over me, and I felt my left leg weld itself to Dhorlun's right. "No!" I cried. "Highness, what have you done?"

The Prince gave his moustache a self-satisfied twirl. "Did you think you were the only one who could read Corvus Direnni, Hafzi? I stripped the binding clause out of Koron's Peremptory Summons, and discovered I could use it to bind other things than the will of a Daedra! Impressive, isn't it?"

I just gaped at him. Meanwhile, Big Dhorlun looked down at our magically-bound legs, grunted, and then tried to step forward. I had to grab his arm to keep from falling over, and even then I nearly dragged both of us down. Dhorlun shook his head. "This is bad, Master. Don't like it. Make it go away, Master."

"Oh, very well. Unbind!" the Prince said, and reversed the spell, but added an inadvisable gestural flourish that funneled far too much magicka into it. Dhorlun and I flew apart, hurled to opposite sides of the room, and the anciend Yokudan urn behind us shattered explosively.

Suddenly a swirling cloud appeared above the shattered jar, and a hollow, ringing voice cried, "Free! FREE! After an eon bound in that stinking jug, I'm free!" The cloud rapidly coalesced into an armored floating torso with a helmed head and four arms, each of which gripped a huge scimitar. "Now I take my vengeance on the world of mortals!"

The scimitars began to whirl menacingly. I glanced at Dhorlun, but he'd gone head-first into my marble bust of Morwha and was still stunned. "Highness!" I cried. "Use your spell! Bind that thing before it chops us into hors-d'ouevres!"

Prince Hew's eyes goggled with horror. "I c-can't! The unbinding spell drained all my magicka! It's up to you, Hafzi!"

I ducked as two scimitars whistled over my head, and dashed behind my desk. The thing was between me and the door—it WAS up to me to bind it, but I hadn't cast a spell in months. Prince Hew shrieked as a scimitar slashed the tassels off his golden fez. "Koron's Prison, Hafzi! It's our only chance!"

"But that needs a container, and the urn is smashed!"

"Use this!" And the Prince tossed me the magenta-and-green petty-vizier turban.

Three scimitars came down on my desk, smashing it to flinders, as I inverted the turban and cast Koron's Perdurable Prison. "NOOO!" the demon cried as it dwindled into the hated hat. "I loathe the scent of hair oil...!"

And then it was gone. I was still trembling, but Prince Hew blinked, took a deep breath, and smiled. "Well, that didn't end so badly, did it? At least, not as bad as the Iron Regatta, or that business with the pet toku gava! Now, where were we?"

I helped Big Dhorlun up out of the marble dust of the shattered statue. "We were canceling the Guards' three-legged race, remember?"

"I suppose you're right, Hafzi. You usually are." He brightened. "I have it! After the gorapple bobbing contest, we'll have them use their crossbows to shoot the fruit off the heads of the losers! Oh, and ... just get rid of that turban."


	52. Rhanbiq's Notes

Entry 28

Nicolas certainly passed through the area, but enough time has passed that few remember the details. "Bellulor would know," is what everyone tells me. Apparently they mean Bellulor Chatterbreak [sic], some gossipy pickpocket who comes in here to cadge drinks.

But not since I began asking around. He must think I'm with the local Guard, and has gone to ground wherever he and the rest of his ilk do business. But where would a pickpocket go to avoid the Guard? It's not as though all the outlaws in town have some sort of refuge.


	53. Rhanbiq's Orders: al-Danobia Tomb

Under no circumstances shall any numbered amongst the Iron Wheel set foot within al-Danobia Tomb. Secure the approach, only. Magnifica Falorah expressly forbade entry, and we are in her employ. We shall strictly adhere to her guidelines, despite our training.

—Rhanbiq, CI-IW


	54. Rhanbiq's Orders: Fulstrom Homestead

Thane Fulstrom has graciously allowed the use of his manor, but I am concerned about the infested catacombs below his manor.

I want you to scout and secure this area. However unlikely the approach, it is best to prepare for any eventuality. The last remnants of the Thieves Guild will not slip through our fingers.

—Rhanbiq, CI-IW


	55. Rhanbiq's Orders: Iron Wheel Headquarters

This is to remind all Iron Wheel officers and soldiers serving within our temporary headquarters is an honor and privilege. Those members of our command who would rather patrol the area outside the Citadel are welcome to apply for transfer at any time. Hot-weather gear and rain slickers will be provided as necessary.

For those who would rather remain in the cool, comfortable interior of this complex, please remember to comport yourself as Iron Wheel, not common soldiers:

—Sneaking off into the secret passages will be seen as an application for transfer.

—Dangling your feet from the catwalk above the main storage area will be seen as an application for transfer. Be sure to ask Demi-Lieutenant Atriunia if dawdling was worth his time.

Refusing to do "servant's work" in the interior will not be seen as an application for transfer. However, I will personally interpet it as a request to clean out the latrines which haven't been maintained in nearly two thousand years.

—Rhanbiq, CI-IW


	56. Rhanbiq's Orders: No Shira Prison

To all numbered amongst the Iron Wheel:

Departures shall be orderly. Prisoner transfers take priority, paired with confiscated goods. The delivery of such to Taneth shall release final payment to our guild, which is necessary to fund the recovery of our materiel and remaining numbers from Hew's Bane.

I cannot overstate the importance of a successful and timely delivery.

—Rhanbiq, CI-IW


	57. Saroldo's Greatest Treasure

My dearest daughter,

If you are reading this, you have undoubtedly received notice of my passing. In such an event, I entrusted my friend Nicolas to acquire the ledger and see it delivered to you at your academy. I can almost hear your groans - one of my last gifts is to be one of those puzzles I found far more enchanting than you.

But I confess I am not entirely certain I ever wished you to solve it. The life you thought I loved was not entirely as I explained. You see, I have fallen deeply in love with a woman in Abah's Landing. I am ashamed to say I feared your reception of Lady Sulima. She is not your mother - nor is she meant to replace her. Yet we each know the pain of loss.

The greatest treasure I can provide is a future where both of you are family.

I can only assume you have balled up the letter and thrown it at something. Now that you have recovered it, please continue.

Think of what you have done so far. You solved the puzzle in the ledger, you traveled to Abah's Landing, you located a patch of sand in Hew's Bane and dug up and old chest. You managed to get the strongbox open without a key to do it.

All of this led you to read my final words. Seeking Lady Sulima in Abah's Landing should be no trouble. She does not know your name, but she has seen your portrait and is eager to meet you. She can tell you the good, strange life I've had with her. And she has a small fortune that will help you get on your feet, once you've graduates from the Academy. You'll be whatever you want to be, and despite my departure, there will always be someone there for you.

All my love,

-S


	58. Scouting Report: Deadhollow Halls

Fa'ren-dar—

You don't pay me enough to hang about in old Daedric shrines, so this will be brief.

Turns out, the folks using it don't like the place, either, so any treasures that are there will be moving out quick. Get in, get the goods, get out. No time to waste.

The patrols keep in close contact. Get spotted by one, they all go on alert. Your time window just got shorter.

Still, there's lots of stuff in there. If you can't get to the goods, you can fill your pockets with secondary loot that'll help offset the costs.

—B


	59. Scouting Report: The Hideaway

Fa'ren-dar—

Professionalism. You don't see that every day. The "thugs" patrolling the Hideaway are an exception.

It is of utmost importance if you're going after treasure here, not to be spotted—not at all. The occupants will whisk away their goods at even the hint of an invader.

That said, make good use of the secret passage. It is lightly-patrolled and a good place to "lie low" if things get too tight.

—O


	60. Scouting Report: Underground Sepulcher

Fa'ren-dar—

Good and lost looking for this place. Funny looks asking about it.

What's a sepulcher, anyway? Whoever had it liked their religion. Lots of relics and the like. Some valuables, too. But you're after the goods.

They stash them all over the place, usually in the big rooms. Got to use the hiding spots. Fortunately, there's plenty. Whoever stocked the place liked leaving extra barrels around!

Got spotted, and the whole place went on alert. I grabbed some stuff and got out, but the main treasures ... you have to be sneaky!

—W


	61. Silver-Claw's Forged Wedding Invitation

You and your guest are cordially invited to attend the union between Lord Cosh of Abah's Landing and Magnifica Falorah al-Danobia, Jewel of Taneth, at Hubalajad Palace. Appropriate attire is required.

Entertainment and food will be provided well into the evening until vows are exchanged within the palace.

Each attendee is expected to bring a gift.

—Muazel, personal assistant to Lord Cosh


	62. Silver-Claw's Ledger

Moon-Sugar Merchants have delivered first of three shipments as agreed upon. Returned one incriminating letter. As promised, the other two letters will be returned when additional shipments received.

Franrynn Silver-Axe is owed 75 gold for her very useful information about the "extra" cargo aboard the Golden Sun out of Haven.

Letter to the Captain of the Golden Sun, requesting favorable pricing for some of his cargo. It will be useful to undercut my rivals on the price of religious statuary and rare herbs. Insist on reply within one day.

Lady Balina was seen in the Senche and Serpent twice in the past two weeks. Apparently she thinks no one will notice her if she wears a hood. Have Mim follow her more carefully. Is she seeing someone on the sly? Perhaps she's a secret drunk? Either way, useful information when I need her to put a good word in with her husband for future deals.


	63. The Bleak Veil Endures

Despite the actions of my inept nephew, the Bleak Veil not only lives, it endures! This isolated land, far from peering eyes, with its abundant resources and safe harbor, was the perfect place to relocate my necromantic cult after the troubles back in Hammerfell. It was an easy matter to convince the weak-minded Hubalajad to construct the family tomb to my specifications, making it a perfect conduit from necrotic energy. We were a single ritual away from attaining ultimate power!

My nephew somehow gleaned to what I was actually doing in the royal tomb and, despite his usual predilection for inactivity, he decided to take action. He locked me and my followers in the very tomb I designed and helped construct! A set-back, to be certain, but far from the disaster it could have been. Yes, it appears that the prince was able to gather a few powerful priests to seal the tomb in such a way as our necrotic energy is unable to set us free. And yes, the small amount of food and water we brought with us has long since run out. But no matter. The Bleak Veil is about to become more powerful than my nephew or his allies can even imagine!

However, just in case something goes wrong, I want to make sure that the truth concerning the Bleak Veil is not lost to the passage of time. I am Magnifico Bahraha, scion of Sentinel and supreme necromancer of the cult of undeath known only as the Bleak Veil. I have spent years perfecting my art and collecting students and followers. We remained hidden, biding our time even as our power grew. The desolate land beyond Abah's Landing was the perfect place to gather our forces and conduct our rituals of death and darkness. This tomb, with its specially designed chambers and corridors, will focus the energy to make my cultists invincible! And of all the members of the Bleak Veil, I will be the strongest one of all!

Of course, we must conduct the ritual before we all die of thirst or starvation. And sacrifices will need to be made. We can't very well send out for sacrificial victims while we're trapped inside the tomb. So, straws will have to be drawn to determine which of our members will die so that the rest of us can transcend into undeath. It will be glorious! And these are the last words I will write on the subject while life still beats within my body. When next we meet, I will either be dead—or, the darkness willing, something even better.


	64. The Elf, the Egg, and the Almost-Dragon

Young Iori spent her nights listening to her grandfather's stories about the ancient dragons and her days searching the nearby swamps for signs of the legendary creatures. Once she bought back a bright, shiny scale she was convinced belong to a dragon. Her grandfather said it was nothing but a piece of wamasu hide and cuffed her for going too far away from the house.

But that didn't discourage Iori. She wanted to find a dragon, so she kept searching. Iori strayed further and further from her grandparents' hut until, one day, she got caught in a rainstorm. She took cover in a nearby cave but found the floor full of brackish water. Picking her way around the pool, Iori made it to the back of the cave and came upon something she'd never expected to see—a large, green egg!

The egg, half-buried in warm mud, pulsed with life. Iori knew it had to be a dragon egg. All her grandpa's stories said dragon eggs were big, and hard, and warm. This egg was very, very warm.

And it was alone. There was no sign of the mother dragon, or anyone else. Iori knew if the egg hatched now, there would be no one to take care of the baby dragon and it would die.

"I can't bring it back home," she said. "Gram'll want to smash it, or cook it!" Her gram didn't believe in dragons and eggs, in her world, were food.

"I can't stay here, either," she thought about the hiding she'd get if she came back after dark. "What am I going to do?"

Iori sat and thought while the rain poured down. "The storm's getting worse," she thought. "I can't go back now—I'll just get lost or sick. Gram'll understand." And, so, Iori convinced herself she should stay overnight. And she did.

The next morning, Iori woke to the sun shining in the cave mouth. She was famished, as hungry as she'd ever been, but her first thoughts were of the egg. Iori dug it out of its warm, mud nest and examined it. The egg was hot!

"It must be just ready to hatch!" she exclaimed. But almost as if in answer, she heard a growl from outside the cave. "Maybe that's the mother dragon?" she thought. But the thought of being trapped in a dragon cave didn't make her feel good at all.

Iori heard the growl again, followed by sniffing. It wasn't a dragon outside! It was a guar! Picking up the egg with one hand and a stone with the other, Iori crept out of the cave. There, she saw a wild guar, nose to the ground. It saw her and sniffed.

"You can't have it!" Iori exclaimed, throwing the rock at the guar. It hit the creature right in the nose, hard enough to make it yelp. But this guar wasn't like the tame ones back home. She'd never heard a tame one snarl, and this one started pawing at the ground angrily.

Iori ran. The guar chased her a little way and the young girl grew frightened. She clutched the egg to her chest, protecting it from the tree branches and the occasional fall. She ran long after the guar gave up chasing her, she was so frightened. Eventually, when Iori was too tired to run anymore, she fell to her knees.

"I think we're safe, little dragon," she said—but then gasped in horror. She looked down at the egg and there was a crack! "Oh, no!" Iori wailed. She must have held it too tight, or let a branch hit it. Or—

Another crack appeared, and then another. The shell started to fall away, being pushed from the inside.

"You're hatching!" Iori said. She looked around wildly, not sure what to do. She stooped to put the egg down but then hesitated—what if the dragon ran away? But she didn't want to hurt it, either, so she sat cross-legged and made a hammock out of her dirty apron. Iori put the egg in her lap.

It continued to shake and break and, soon, a dragon's nose poked out of the hole! It was bright green and a bit slimy-looking, but the eyes opened and looked up at her. A forked tongue licked out of the wedge-shaped head and Iori felt a rush of excitement. The dragon was hatching!

The rest of the egg broke away, but Iori was surprised to see the "dragon" had no claws—no feet or legs of any kind. It was a snake, but a snake with tiny wings. Most of her friends would've been horrified, holding a baby snake in their laps, but Iori was amazed. She'd heard stories of dragons, but never a snake with wings!

After the creature struggled free of its shell, Iori carefully discarded the shards and put her hands around the winged snake. It was a bit cold, but she felt it grow warmer as it snuggled up in her hands. With sleeping, serpent's eyes, the creature looked up at Iori. It blinked twice, then fell asleep.

"Well, you're almost a dragon, aren't you?"


	65. The Red Curse, Volume 1

By Dettethor Pantenne

As a child, I was sickly and morose, a feeble stripling confined to a bed. The greater world came to me primarily through the windows of my room, high in the relative safety of my family's expansive manor. The vivid flashes of light and color that entered my room via its large windows served only to heighten the anxiety and fear of the outside world I had carefully cultivated in my bed rest. With the physical world become a place of feat and tension for my weakened frame, I retreated into the solace of the written word, and plumbed the deep mysteries of Nirn.

While I lived many lives, and learned many things in this way, one particular legend, that of Red Eagle, the king of the Reachmen, lodged itself most firmly in my mind. Though I was the scion of a family of proud Bretons, I contrived a connection between myself and the King of the Reach, Faolan. With this lie embedded in my heart, I turned my studies to the dark arts, wishing to find a way to fulfill Red Eagle's oath, and return him to life. He would, by my machinations, rule The Reach, his flaming sword in one hand, and I at the other, his trusted and beloved vizier.

As I grew, my maladies passed, leaving me weak, but not longer bed-ridden, and the largesse of my family afforded me the ability to discreetly expand my research. My peculiar eccentricities were accepted due to my rank, and the near complete isolation of my youth.

Inevitably, my studies led me to the Daedra. Late at night, in the darkness, deep within my family's manor, I would conduct ancient rituals in unfamiliar tongues, raising the foul demons and trapping them, plying them with questions. Often they would ignore my entreaties, promising me great power or wealth if only I would release them from their magical bonds. Through weak of flesh, my mind was stalwart, I resisted their honeyed words, and eventually they would accept that the only path to freedom lay in acquiescence.

Again and again, this story played out, and in fits and starts I collected the information I desires, but it was never enough. Slowly, their poisoned promises bore fruit, and I convinced myself that perhaps I could outsmart these Oblivion-cursed souls. It was my own hubris that led me to believe I could accept their gifts and yet control the terms.

How naive I was then, and how haunted I am by the truths I know now. The fear of the outside world returned tenfold, I have again taken solace in the solitude of my ancestral manse. Though I search feverishly for an escape, I know in my heart that none will rear its head. There is a darkness that lives in the roots of Nirn, and once envisaged, it can never be escaped.


	66. The Red Curse, Volume 2

I shivered and wrapped my cloak tighter around myself, following the pointing, gnarled finger of the toothless old Reachman, his words croaking out between hearty chuckles at my discomfort. My eyes followed the path into the hills, resting finally on a distant cave entrance, barely visible through the stinging snow, and I steeled myself for the coming trek. Though my physical and mental reserves were nearly spent, I knew that my ambitions were closer than ever to being fulfilled, and despite the lateness of the day and the biting cold, I resolved to reach Red Eagle's tomb on that very night.

Though the powers granted to me by my Daedric benefactors are great, intestinal fortitude was not on the list, and when I reached the mouth of the cave I collapsed, exhausted. As i lay there, without even the vigor to drag myself inside, I began to hear the flittering whispers and distant horns, calling me forth to destiny. With this ghostly music in my ears, I crawled into the mouth of the cave, wrapped all that I had around my frame, and dropped into black, dreamless sleep.

I awoke to the sound of birds and light—things still, as in my youth, repugnant to my senses. I retreated quickly into the darkness of the cave. I knew that my goal was below in the depths. A warm breath pulsed from the interior of the cave, drawing me inward, the thrumming horns seeming to echo from somewhere deep below. I felt a tightness in my chest as I followed these guides, hoping to soon reach my much maligned ancestor.

The traps set to dissuade intruders and grave robbers were child's play for my intellect, and ever cautious I made my way deeper into the crypt. The cave walls pressed in, and gradually the rough, rippled rock walls gave way to hewn stone and chiseled murals. My fingers traced the images, caressing Red Eagle's sword as it cut swathes through a thousand men. The whispering voices and alien horns grew louder, increasing the pressure in my head—my senses lulled, but my mind alert, I knew that soon, after years of research, my ascension was at hand.

I turned one last corner and found myself in Red Eagle's tomb. Simple and unadorned, a sarcophagus sat on a dais in the center of the chamber. Lying near it on a pedestal was Red Eagle's Bane, his magnificent blade. In a burst I ran to it, and hovered over it. My was breath heavy and quick, the voices and music silenced, replaced by an all-encompassing, heavy, ragged, expectant breath.

My hand hovered above the hilt, my fingers grasping and flexing, fear mingling with excitement. Carefully, I reached down and grasped the blade, lifting it up before me and staring, transfixed by the sight.

What came next, my mind almost completely refuses to recall, as memories of such horror must be locked away, lest the brain that contains them be driven mad.


	67. The Red Curse, Volume 3

Red Eagle's voice, like velvet, pulled me toward the sarcophagus. He urged me to place the blade in the sarcophagus alongside his body. Like my Daedric benefactors, he whispered of power beyond belief, and filled my head with images of us ruling together as I had always imagined. The room continued to press inward, and I felt cushioned and buoyed along as I laid the blade carefully on the ground and grunted through the effort of removing the lid of Red Eagle's tomb.

I gazed down at the skeletal remains, the dank smell of the tomb wafting up to my nostrils was intoxicating. Here was the moment I had long dreamt of, and the voice of Red Eagle gently urging me on, which all came crashing down the moment I laid the blade in his grave.

My head was immediately wracked with a blinding pain, and I fell to the ground, my vision filled with a pulsing red light. I could hear, somewhere in the distance, the creaking skeleton of Red Eagle climbing from the grave. I saw visions of burning cities, my own flesh melting from the bone as I was consumed in flames. The voice of Red Eagle cackled, now in the room, and he circled behind, "foolish child," he scratched in his inhuman voice, "you are no kin of mine...."

In a rush I charged Red Eagle and manage to knock the blade from his hand, picking it up I charged from the room, his menacing laughter, turning to roars of anger. Somewhere in my rush to escape, more animal than man, I lost the blade, but must have brought it far enough to trigger some sort of mechanism, as I heard stone doors grinding shut behind me, and the pursuit of Red Eagle was cut off.

And that is why I now live in fear, locked away in my study, hoping to find some way to destroy the horror I have unleashed on the world. Though trapped, at any time, another man, foolish as myself may set him free, and I pity the world when that time comes. I fear for us all.


	68. To My Unknown Benefactor

Sir or Madam,

I do not understand why these small valuables have begun to show up at my doorstep, but I must say you have improved my standard of living substantially. What you ask for in return, however, is not within my power to give.

If I were to tell you, for example, about the caravan leaving my city along the northern trail at dawn a week from today, I think I would be in fear for my position. And informing you that each of the merchants of my city transport their safebox contents to the bank on the third day of every week would be a confidence I should not dare reveal.

I trust we understand one another.

—E


	69. Travel Itinerary

Details of Lady Anais Velmont's impending tour of Velmont holdings:

Day 1: Board Velmont's Opulence and set sail for the Gold Coast.

Day 3: Winds and currents permitting, arrive at Anvil. Provincial Governor Forunata [sic] has graciously offered rooms at Castle Anvil for me and my retinue.

Day 4: Attend a posh ball at Castle Anvil, I dare say I'll be the guest of honor!

Day 5: Inspect holdings in the city of Anvil, handle family business.

Day 6: Set sail for Taneth. Make sure to stock up on pirate ale for the trip.

Day 10: Winds and currents permitting, arrive at the port city of Taneth. The Queen of Taneth has graciously offered a small estate for my use during this visit.

Days 11-12: Meet with merchant lords to discuss business arrangements. Negotiate to purchase a new warehouse for expanding needs.

Day 13: Attend a grand ball, hosted by the Queen of Taneth. Be careful not to overindulge on the pomegranate wine.

Day 14: Set sail for Abah's Landing. See you when we get back!


	70. Triumph of the Sep Adder

Wayrest offered few options. The sale of the chub loons recovered some of our fortunes, but not enough to make it worth the annoyance. We bought a leaky ship, and sought some cargo to sell on the coast as we returned to our homeland. I, Zabia-ko, did not truly trust the broker at the docks, and I declined most of his schemes.

"But Zabia-ko, you must trade in delicacies!" the scoundrel said, "Sugars and rice will only earn you so much, but dreugh eggs packed in mud are prized by the rich, fat merchants of Abah's Landing!" At the time it seemed worth the risk.

It was not. Dreugh, who shed their legs after mating and spend their lives in the sea, must have sensed the eggs in the hull, for they attacked our ship soon after leaving Sentinel. They rushed in with the water when the ship cracked open, and took the eggs. This one lost consciousness before the ship broke apart completely.

Fear not! This was not the end of Zabia-ko. There are still many more stories to tell and creatures to see, like the fascinating sep adder. To that in a moment.

We awoke on a beach in the south-west portion of the land of Hew's Bane, a short journey by land from Abah's Landing. The journey to the city saw many adventures, including an encounter with an Orc who thinks she's a shark, but the best part was the winged snake called by locals as the sep adder.

Like the chub loon, it is a silly thing to behold. It has no legs, yet moves around the ground like a snake. It has wings, yet cannot truly fly. Unlike the stupid birds, however, the sep adder manages to thrive and be graceful. It always has a means of satiating its ever-present hunger.

It is constantly on the prowl for its next meal, gliding along the lush shores of the land's rivers, picking bugs out of the sky and fish from the water. Later, as the land grew dry and the water less common, I saw more of them, plucking small mice from their little arid homes in the ground.

It should be good at none of these things, but it is good at many things. It lives in the wet lands and dry. It is like Zabia-ko. This one was not born into money nor especially lucky, but through wit, is able to overcome many misfortunes.

The people of this land honor the sep adder, for when approaching Abah's Landing, we saw a great statue of a man wrapped in a giant snake with wings. I never saw one that large, but that's not to say they don't exist in the wilderness. If such a creature can overcome and be honored in such a triumphant way, maybe, too, Zabia-ko can overcome and find a place of honor somewhere. Even if it's only the honor of knowing where her next meal is coming from!


	71. Twilight Rites and Hymns

On the S'virash Sahaala

The "Chase Away" song is one of the three Dusk-Canticles that fell from the tongue of Azurah in the Dawn Time. Like the Twilight Lady herself, the "Chase Away" song is slippery and unpredictable. It should not be sung unless the need is great.

In ancient times it was used to treat disease and ward off cane-locusts. But then came the Middle-Dawn that twisted the Moon-Bishops' tails and made them forgetful. Now it is only used to drive out the dro-m'Athra.

The dro-m'Athra dance to no music but the beating Heart of Lorkhaj. It is a song without song—dark and seductive. The heartbeat is a lie that repeats and repeats until it becomes truth to the cat who hears it. When a Khajiit accepts the will of Lorkhaj as truth, they forget the Riddle'Thar and become Lost Cats. Khajiit that are well and truly bent cannot be saved through song, they can only be banished with knives and moonlight. Cats that still struggle against the Heart, however, can be drawn back from the Darks.

The S'virash Sahaala's strength lies in its elusiveness. The Clan Mothers will tell you to sing no songs in the presence of the dro-m'Athra, and they are wise to do so. Heedless singing will draw you closer to the Heart. Your song will fall in with the beat, your tail will twitch in time, and you will slide into the Maw of Lorkhaj whisker-first. The "Chase Away" song is the only song that can break the Heart's tempo. The notes dance up and down the scale like a mad shadow, confusing the Darks and making the Heart weak and sluggish. Eventually the tempo will break and the corruption will pass.

Even so, those who sing the S'virash Sahaala take a great risk. The dro-m'Athra hate Azurah's hymns and will take great pains to kill any cat who sings them. So take heed, Cantor—if you confront Namiira's dark litter, you must move swiftly and keep your wits. A moment's weakness can end in disaster.


	72. Urgent Message from Walks-Softly

While we were both attending to other matters, that special shipment from my past was discovered and absconded with by pirates. I have to rescue her!

Contacts throughout Abah's Landing have told me that the shipment has been taken to Shark's Teeth Grotto. I'm heading there immediately. If you have the inclination, I wouldn't turn down your help.

—Walks-Softly


	73. Vazshara's Journal

Vazshara has only been a Doubting Monk for a week, and already she is regretting her decision. No one talks about what happened here before the Two Kingdoms set their roots, but it is on everyone's mind all the time. It's like there is a great big senche-tiger eating our dinner, but we're forbidden to slap its nose. We all know that some Moon Bishop stirred up the Darks here and let the dro-m'Athra into Nirni. But why? How? No one will say. Vazshara has heard all the rumors of course—the paddy-tales ja'khajiit laugh over when they think no one is listening. Most Khajiit laugh along, but this one knows that silly stories often hide darker truths. This one has to find out what really happened here.

***

Vazshara claws are cramped from writing! This one has spoken to many, many monks and committed their stories to paper. Vazshara has to admit, these tales are much darker than the ones she learned as ja'khajiit. The players are always the same: crazy monks and a Moon Bishop called the "Stone-Tapper." Apparently, this bishop carried a magic stick that spoke secrets when he tapped it on the floor. No one knows where this magic stick came from, or where it went after the Moon Bishop died, so it might be Senche dung. But one mystery at a time, yes?

Day and night, this Moon Bishop tapped the floor, learning all of Nirni's secrets. But eventually the magic stick ran out of Nirni-secrets, so it started telling darker secrets. Namiira-secrets. The Tapper listened and listened, growing old and crazy. The monks of the temple went crazy too, because the tapping never stopped. It was a loud and steady sound—tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap. Like a heartbeat, yes? Eventually, the monks hatched a plot to kill the Stone-Tapper. They lured him into the High Lunarium and stabbed him with their curved knives until he died. All the blood and secrets drained out of the Tapper's body and broke open the temple, revealing the Maw of Lorkhaj, and the Darks beyond.

This is where the tale starts to fray. In some versions of the story, The Tapper wakes up after his blood is drained and kills all the monks with lightning. In others, a great winged beast bursts out of Lorkhaj's throat and rips the monks apart with claws and fangs. But this makes no sense. The seals scattered throughout the temple clearly show the Moon Bishop flanked by monks and summoning bent spirits. And this one has seen what looks like a door in the High Lunarium. So he must have survived, and he must have pushed at least some of the monks into the Bent Dance, right? Bah. This one thinks it might be a guilty conscience. The Doubting Monks have a sour reputation. Many Khajiit think the order played a role in freeing the dro-m'Athra. This one is starting to think they may be right. Vazshara should have listened to her papa and become a fisherman. Var var var.

***

Ziss on this place! Abbot Kulan-dro summoned Vazshara to the High Lunarium today and gave her the worst tongue-lashing of her life. "No more loose talk! No more questions!" Bah! As if anything in this place was loose. This temple is a tomb. No one laughs, or sings, or dances. It's nothing but chanting, and whispers, and tail-tucked prayer. This alone would be enough to make Vazshara run away, but there is more. There was something in the Abbot's eyes. It wasn't rage—no, it wasn't that. It was like ... nothing. Like a dull black nothing. Like a dead cat's eyes. It made this one's tail knot up. Vazshara has had enough. This one makes for the sea at first light. Moons curse this place, and its Abbot!


	74. Wake Walkers' Orders

Beastmaster Rodros,

Take a landing party and scour Shark's Teeth Grotto for a gift that will please and gain us favor with the new commodore. If the rumors hold true, then Shalug the Shark has a good many valuables hidden away within the grotto. Let the Walkers loot what they will, but save anything of particular value and interest for the commodore.

But remember your true purpose, beastmaster. If the legendary creature called Krona Keeba does roam the deepest recesses of the grotto, I want you to tame the beast and bring it to me. I can't think of a better gift to present to the new commodore than her very own pet haj mota! With such a creature in our possession, we will be the envy of the other pirate ships. The commodore can't help but be impressed!

Now get to it and find me that creature!

Captain Dolorion of the Wake Walker


	75. Warehouse Under New Ownership

We understand the absence of Silver-Claw has caused distress amongst the warehouse staff.

Do not be alarmed. The warehouse is under new ownership—stable ownership. Throw your backs into the work as you always have. The coin you earn will spend, as it has before.

—Overseer Iszreena  
—Overseer Torkming


	76. Word of Khiruna

I heard a cat meeting Khiruna's description was nabbed by the Guard for cutting purses in the market, after the Iron Wheel hit but before we were set up in the Den.

Word is, they were going to fine her and let her loose, but decided to turn her over to the Iron Wheel for more coin. (This is before the merchant lords decided Chief Inspector Rhanbiq was bad for business.) Last I heard, she was loaded on a ship heading to No Shira Citadel—nothing after that.

—Thrag


End file.
